Page 11 of Devilry

A light chuckle leaves his mouth, shifting the mood. “If you wanted to get close to me, all you had to do was ask.”

Please don’t say things like that.

“I’m sorry.” Shaking my head, I ignore his harmless attempt at what I think is flirting and force myself to move away from him. “I’ve gotta go.”

He smirks at my dismissal, but steps aside all the same. “I guess you won’t be buying me a drink to apologize for almost killing me earlier.”

I’m so inept at conversation, flirting included; I want the ground to swallow me whole. He can’t be interested in me, that’s impossible. He’s totally kidding.

“I’m kidding,” he blurts out. As if he’s read my mind, his face offers a sympathetic smile. One that tells me he wasn’t really joking, but somehow he knew I wanted him to be. “Are you sure you don’t need help getting home? You could lean on my shoulders that you seem to like so much.”

My cheeks heat in embarrassment, at both his comment and the thought of being near him for the whole walk home.

Cautiously, I back away before I get myself into any more trouble. “Look, again, I’m really sorry for bumping into you.”

As if he’s committing every inch of me to memory, his eyes follow the same path as earlier. His gaze drifting between my shoulders, down my torso, and lingering at my shorts. He trails his way back up, licking his lips as he meets my stare. “Don’t be.”

Enjoying his appraisal a little more than I should, my dick thickens from a semi to a full blown hard on.

Get a grip, Elijah.

Knowing that if he takes one more look at my body he’ll see my reaction to him, I point behind me quickly, desperate to escape. “I’ll see you later.”

Choosing not to wait around for a response, I limp away. Saving my foot from any more pain and saving myself from any more embarrassment.

It takes me double the time to get back to my dorm, making my early morning wake up pointless, and leaving me already running behind on my first day of classes.

Great fucking start.

After an uncomfortable shower, where I balanced on one leg, a breakfast of rice crackers and plastic cheese, and a two-hour nap, I try to take my mind off my disaster of a morning. Seeing as the couch is now unoccupied, and my roommate’s bedroom door is closed, I get myself comfortable, keeping my foot elevated on the wooden table. With one of my t-shirts now saturated in cold water, I wrap it around my ankle as a substitute for a frozen bag of peas. It’s not perfect, but it’ll do. Hoping this alleviates the swelling of my tendon,I situate my Mac on my lap and get comfy. It’s obvious I’m not going to make it to any of my lectures today, so I need to make sure I don’t fall behind. Picking up a fresh packet of Werther’s Originals, I unwrap the single butterscotch candy. They’re my favorite, and have been since I was a kid.

Popping it into my mouth, I let the rich sweetness settle on my tongue as I log in to the student portal.

You’re only allowed to miss two classes per subject. Aand even though the access to podcasts would have you feeling a sense of security when it comes to your education, it’s a false one.

Here at King, you’re banned from listening to podcasts if you exceed two unexplained absences. It’s essentially a military camp for your brain, and even though pride rushes through me every time I think of being given the opportunity to earn my degree here, everything about this whole institution still intimidates the absolute shit out of me.

Assuming I’ve only missed an introductory lesson, I put my headphones on and search for my Studies in Religion elective. Foregoing a pen and paper, I close my eyes and let my head fall onto the back of the couch while I listen.

The authoritative voice streams through the speakers, laying down the rules, listing the expectations, trying to put the fear of God into every student. And if I was in the classroom, being stared down by a face that matches that voice, there is no denying I would’ve felt it.

Religion: Texts, Life, and Traditions was one of the only classes I had where face-to-face contact with the Professor was limited to once a week. With what was said to be a gruelling online testing schedule, making up fifty percent of the grade, it was a sound decision to allow students to take full advantage of the upscale technology the university has to offer.

My attention begins to wane as I realize I need the unit outline to continue following along. Seeing as the only way to get my hands on it was to attend today’s class, I decide to make it tomorrow’s problem, and let my thoughts detour to my run in with the sexy stranger.

With the lecturer’s deep voice playing as a soundtrack in my ears, my mind conjures up the mystery man and replays the way his gray eyes bored into me, slid down my body, while he unabashedly got his fill.

I’m a complicated mess when it comes to relationships and the laws of attraction, but as I swam in the depths of the embarrassment pool, it was a nice ego boost to be the subject of his desire, even if only momentarily.

A hand on my knee pulls me out of my thoughts and startles me, my body jolting in response. I snap my eyes open and glare at my now refreshed and sober roommate.

“Whoa.” His hands fly up in surrender as I yank my headphones off. “I didn’t mean to scare you, man. I was just trying to get your attention, and”— he points to my ears—"you couldn’t hear me.”

“Well, I can now,” I say sarcastically.

“Look.” He runs his hand over his short-clipped hair. “I was hoping we could introduce ourselves, and I could apologize about earlier.”

I give him a slight nod as he rambles, letting him talk it out.

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